Chapter 42 Nora, Please Stay
“Hey David, we–” Harlan starts to say, but he is interrupted.
“Get in.” David commands, making a shiver run through me. Not the good kind of shiver either.
He is glaring at me, his eyes never leaving mine as we all walk past him into the house. The door slams shut behind Marcus, and while I drop my bags on the floor, David is already snapping orders at them.
“You two will check in with Danvers and Reyes on the perimeter. You have ten minutes before I need answers on what the fuck happened out there. And in the morning, you can decide between you who’s fixing the damn bullet holes in the car.”
Harlan and Marcus rush off without any objections. Seems that despite us not telling him, he knows about the shooting anyway. I shouldn’t be too surprised. After all, it is his job to know what happens in his city, with his people.
I fold my arms across my chest as he keeps staring at me, after the doors have shut behind Harlan and Marcus leaving the house. I decide to glance around.
“Hey David, how are things?” I ask coolly.
He storms up to me. I drop my arms to step back.
“Think this is a joke?” He snaps.
“When did I say it was funny?” I retort.
“Nora this is serious–”
“It always is.” I laugh, with no warmth in it at all. “But I got one of their guys, and took out their tires so they couldn’t follow us here, so I think we did pretty well.”
“You do not take shots at the enemy.” He says, his teeth visibly gritted as he speaks to me. “You could have been hurt.”
“Well I wasn’t, and they helped save our asses, so maybe you can thank me, and Marcus and Harlan when you’ve calmed down.” I spit, pushing past him and heading to walk out of the room, when he grabs my arm, and spins me back round to face him.
I wrench my arm out of his grasp, and take a step back.
“No.” I say sternly.
“Nora–” He steps towards me, but I hold a hand up.
“No.” I breathe. “I have been shot at. I shot someone. You’ve kidnapped me again–”
“I haven’t kidnapped–”
“I SAID NO DAVID!” I yell suddenly, the adrenaline of the evening’s events catching up with me all at once. As I breathe heavily, he licks his lips, and I can tell he is trying not to shout back at me.
“I’m having a shower. I’m going to bed. We will talk in the morning.”
“You can’t go to sleep like this. Just let me–”
“I’m. Going. To. Bed.” I reiterate, the anger flaring up inside of me.
I just want to be alone. To calm down. To not think about it, go to sleep, and revisit it in the morning. What is happening, what it all means.
The fact that I shot someone dead.
Finally, David nods. Then he picks up one of my bags, and walks towards the stairs. Assuming that he is taking me to my room, I follow him, picking up my other bag. He opens the second door on the left, which creaks a little at the movement, and he heads in, putting my bag on the bed carefully.
I stay in the doorway.
“Bathroom is the door across.” He mutters. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I step to the side, letting him walk past me. He pauses when he reaches me, and I wonder if he is going to say something, touch me, kiss me, something.
But he doesn’t. He just walks out, and I hear him walk back down the stairs.
Setting my second bag beside the first, I get out some new clothes, toiletries and a towel, and head to the bathroom.
It isn’t until the water is hammering around me that I cry.
For how my life has turned into this, for the fact that I so easily took someone’s life, after I promised myself I wouldn’t. For the fact that the damn gun residue won’t come off my hands.
I cry at how angry I’ve been at David, for doing nothing more than trying to keep me safe. I cry at how I’ve somehow become the focal point of his enemy without properly understanding why. I cry at the fact that even after all this, he is mad at me, hasn’t touched me, hugged me, let me know that it would be okay.
I fall onto my bed after my shower, not moving the bags, not getting under the covers. Just falling immediately asleep.
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up. All that I know is that I am now under the covers, my bags are tucked by the wall under the window, and the sun is creeping through the blinds.
I find my phone, a glass of water and a jumper all positioned neatly on the dresser by the door.
Checking my phone first, I notice it is almost midday. I also see texts from Selena, ranging from cute (talking about Marcus), to worried, then angry. I assume that at some point, Marcus told her what happened, but I don’t have the energy to respond right now, so I put my phone back down.
I drink the water, then pull the jumper on, over the long pyjamas I sleep in, breathing in the cosiness before finding some socks in my bag, and pulling those on too. I’m not sure if it is the house, or the dip in my adrenaline, but I feel cold.
Slowly walking out the room, I head for the stairs, then wander around downstairs. It isn’t a huge place, maybe the same size as David’s apartment, but it is laid out rather oddly, and it takes me a few seconds to find the kitchen, needing a cup of coffee.
And I find just that.
A cup of coffee, attached to a hand that belongs to David.
With a sigh, I step closer and take the mug, muttering a thanks to him before taking a sip. I feel him looking at me, watching me, but I don’t want to look up. Not yet.
I go to turn around, to head back to the bedroom, but his voice stops me.
“Nora, please stay.” He sounds sad. Hurt. Worried. It makes me feel guilty for not wanting to stay. Then I remember that I did tell him that I would talk about it today. I am frozen to the spot, trying to work out what I want to do, and where I want to go.
I feel his fingers touch my arm hesitantly, then his breath on my hair. When I don’t move, he wraps his hand around my arm, gently tugging, telling me that he wants me to turn around.
And I do. Slowly.
When I am facing him, he wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest, his head resting on top of mine, and just holds me. I have the sense to move the cup I am holding out the way, so it won’t end up between us. I think I will just let him hug me, then head back upstairs.
But the second that I breathe in, inhaling his familiar scent, his body pressed against mine, my resolve breaks.
My free arm wraps around him in return, and I hug him back, feeling his arms tighten around me. For a minute or two, I just stand there, holding each other close, the feel of his heartbeat vibrating against me, calming me down in a way I don’t think is possible.
When he starts to pull away, I sniff, and realise I have tears running down my cheek. Quickly trying to wipe them away, his hands come up to my face, his thumbs wiping them away for me.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He whispers, before placing a kiss to my forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He kisses my nose. “Ever.” A kiss to my cheek. “I promise you.”
His last kiss lands on my lips. Soft. Cautious.
But the second I feel it, something surges up from inside me.
I drop my mug, hearing it crash to the floor but not caring at all, flinging my arms around his neck, kissing him back. Again, and again, rushing to move closer, hands going to his neck to pull him closer.
He lets me kiss him, for a bit. He lets me push him backwards, until he hits the fridge, his hands on my hips, resting there, not moving any further.
Not until my hands start drifting down his stomach.
“Nora,” He says gently, holding my wrists to stop my movements. He bites his bottom lip briefly, before finally opening his eyes to look at me. “We’re not doing that right now.”
“But I want to–” I rush to say, leaning forward again to try and kiss him, but he moves his head back, shaking it at me.
“We need to talk first.” He urges.
I swallow, the embarrassment creeping up my neck.
I step back, pulling my hands away from him, looking at anything that isn’t him.
“Please, just–”
David doesn’t finish his sentence before I’ve run out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, slamming the door shut once I get into the bedroom, the tears starting to fall once more.